


does it do it for you? (it does it for me)

by oforamuse



Series: shameless oneshots [5]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:14:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23253022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oforamuse/pseuds/oforamuse
Summary: ‘It’s a thing for you then, huh?'or, the one where ian starts to grow a beard and mickey is definitely into it
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: shameless oneshots [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1652296
Comments: 39
Kudos: 372





	does it do it for you? (it does it for me)

**Author's Note:**

> this was inspired by cameron's livestream earlier and the fact he said that john wells wouldn't let him keep his beard when he's filming as ian. 
> 
> i'm drafting a strongly worded letter of complaint as we speak.
> 
> for now though, the fight goes on beard!ian warriors, so enjoy this.

Mickey starts to notice it on the inside of his thighs at first. 

They sting slightly in the morning, warm and fuzzy, but he doesn’t really give it a huge amount of thought. Ian had sucked him off last night for what felt like _hours_ , kissing and nipping at the inside of his thighs as he usually does, mapping out his body with his tongue and the deft of knowledge of a long time lover. He knows every single place, every single nerve, every single point of pleasure for Mickey, given the fact they’d been having sex for almost a decade now, and yet, he’s continuously turning Mickey’s world on it’s axis with his tongue. The long blowjob session had been a reward for Mickey cooking them both dinner after he’d gotten out of work early and Ian was still mid-meeting with his P.O. He’d come home exhausted and sloppy, his stomach rumbling angrily the entire way home, only to find that Mickey had thrown something together so it would be ready for him when he walked through the door. Ian had nearly pinned Mickey against the kitchen surfaces and fucked him there and then, but his other pressing hunger won out. 

Later when they got upstairs, dishes cleaned and clothes off, Ian took ages with his head between his legs, sucking and sucking and sucking until Mickey fell apart, his limbs flailing out as he babbled. His hands threaded in his hair and his thighs locking tightly around Ian’s head as he swallowed him when he came. 

It had been such a fucking fantastic round of head that he figured of course he’d be feeling it in the morning, the same way he’d find bruises on his hips every now and then, or scratches on his back. They’re the signs of a good fuck, and his husband? He’s the best fuck. 

The marks on his thighs though? They’re different. They’re new. 

It takes an hour or so later when they’re sitting over a cup of coffee, Ian leaning all the way back in his chair, stretched out and relaxed, when it clicks. 

‘You’ve stopped shaving.’ Mickey says, and it’s a statement more than a question. Ian looks over at him, freezing mid sip, the coffee mug tipped towards him. The late morning light shines through the Gallagher’s kitchen window and Mickey can’t help but stare at the way it catches on the fine ginger hairs littering Ian’s chin. It’s not hugely noticeable, barely a step up from a light stubble, but Mickey’s traced every of that inch jawline with his tongue, so he can pick up on even the smallest dusting of change. Ian’s always been pretty clean shaven, ever since they were kids - he always chalked it down to an army thing, but Mickey can’t say he minds this. He shifts in his seat uncomfortably, his hand coming down to adjust himself in his boxers under the table. 

He is not going to get a hard on sitting at the Gallagher kitchen table because his husband has glorified stubble. He’s not. He’s not. He’s not. 

Oh, fuck. He definitely is. 

‘Yeah.’ Ian replies, his voice low as he places the coffee mug back onto the table. His eyebrows draw together as he frowns, ‘Do you… want me to shave?’ 

‘No.’ Mickey says sharply, his hand instinctively slamming down from his coffee cup onto the table, making both men jump. Coffee sloshes out onto the surface and he styles it out, his palms spreading flat against the table. ‘I mean, you do whatever, I don’t care.’ 

Ian tilts his head, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. ‘Okay…’ He says, his hand coming up to rub along the short hairs on his chin. ‘I think I kinda like it, it’s a change, ya know.’ 

‘I don’t care.’ Mickey says, swallowing heavy. Ian can do whatever the fuck he wants with his facial hair, he doesn’t care, he really doesn’t. ‘Do whatever the hell you want.’ 

But fuck, he’s never considered _this_ before. 

It takes a few days later before it comes up again. They’re making out on the couch like a couple of teenagers, it’s a bit ridiculous really but they’ve got an empty house and they never got to do this as kids, so they’re relishing in every second they get. After years of having to be so much more adult in their relationship than their ages asked, they finally have the time and peace to catch up on everything they missed out on as kids. 

Hence, the making out like two teenagers on the family sofa. 

Mickey shifts his knee and shoves it between Ian’s thigh, the other man grinding down on it responsively, his hands grabbing at Mickey’s ass to pull them flush against one another. He cups the side of Ian’s face as his tongue slips into his mouth and traces the back of his teeth. It’s warm, close, and they can’t get enough of each other’s hot mouths. 

His thumb dusts lightly over his jaw when he feels it, the rough texture of Ian’s unshaven skin under his touch. 

‘Fuck.’ He moans, instinctively pulling away and bringing his lips to the very spot he’d just been cupping. The hair is slightly longer now, visible to the eye and definitely different under his tongue. He’s used to the smooth, soft skin as he sucks and nips, but this is a change. It’s rough, and coarse, and Mickey can’t get enough. 

_‘Please_.’ Ian whines, moving his head to give him better access to his neck, a spot both boys know they mutually love. Mickey shifts, his hand coming to the other side of Ian’s head to pull him closer and hold him in place as he traces kisses up and down his beard line, his chin rubbing against the bristled skin as he goes. His kisses get sloppy as he goes on, and he’s pretty much salivating by the time he feels Ian laugh softly, the vibration pulling him out of his flow. He pulls back slightly, inches away from where he'd been sucking seconds before. 

‘What?’ He mutters, his voice low and rough, his breath coming out hot and desperate against Ian’s sweaty neck. Their chests rise and fall together, both men taking the momentary pause to catch their heads up with their crotches. 

‘It’s a thing for you then, huh?’ Ian says, his hand rubbing up and down Mickey’s back. It’s a comforting and grounding movement, but Mickey looks up at him, confused. 

‘What?’ He says again, making eye contact and Ian smiles, his jaw and the sides of his face red and raw, the evidence of the last 10 minutes or so clear on his skin. It sends something hot and fiery down to Mickey’s already hard dick, he swallows and presses into Ian’s thigh.

Ian catches the movement, eyebrow raised. ‘The beard, me being unshaven..that’s like a thing for you.’ 

_‘Fuck off.’_ He groans, his cheeks flush hotly, his wanting needs vulnerable and exposed. He hates it because Ian is right but fuck, he _loves_ it because Ian is right. He laughs as Mickey tucks himself into his side, Ian’s hand coming to rest on the top of Mickey’s head, his fingers running through the dark hair slowly. 

Mickey breathes, pressing back into the movement. ‘You’re hot, what can I say.’ 

‘Come here.’ Ian says, his hand trailing down from the back of Mickey’s head and sitting at the nape of his neck, pulling Mickey up to meet his lips properly. They pull apart, and Ian stares at him, grinning. ‘Watching you get so turned on, it’s well…’ 

He moves Mickey’s hand to his crotch resting right over the bulge in his jeans and Mickey adds the smallest amount of pressure, Ian’s breath hitching. They move quickly, Mickey’s hand fumbling with Ian’s belt as they kiss, getting it just loose enough for him to shove his hand down and wrap it around Ian’s dick. They rut together, Ian in Mickey’s firm hand and Mickey pressed up against his thigh, Mickey's lips attached to the sharp underside of his chin as Ian grips his ass. They don’t last long, the drawn out foreplay pushing them to the edge quicker than intended but neither man minds, their breathing heavy as they ride it out. He’s gross and sticky in his jeans afterwards but he doesn’t care, shifting himself in Ian’s lap so he can sit up properly, his hands resting on either side of the other man’s face. There’s a light sweat on the side of Ian’s head, and Mickey has to fight the urge to pull him close and lick it. 

‘Didn’t think the lumberjack thing did it for me.’ Mickey says, his thumbs trailing along the hair on either side. It’s warm and Mickey doesn’t know if it’s moist from his lips or sweat, but he doesn’t care, it’s hot. ‘But apparently…’ 

Ian smiles, and it’s a big toothy grin that seems even brighter amongst the facial hair which makes Mickey’s chest constrict because he is _so_ fucking head over heels, gay as hell, in love. 

This is the shit he dreamt of as a kid, in prison, in Mexico. The freedom to feel turned on by something as juvenile as additional facial hair and being _allowed_ to feel that way. He could’ve never imagined, as the scared closeted kid he was, that he’d find the simple act of _loving_ his husband’s beard so freeing. That feeling it under his fingers lightens the pressure in his chest in ways he never knew it would. There’s no more limitations on their love and the way Mickey chooses to express it, there’s not a time stamp or expiry date, and things finally feel like they’re falling into the right place. 

They kiss for a few moments more, lightly and holding back, before Ian drags them up off the sofa and upstairs into the shower. Ian smiles smugly as they brush their teeth next to one another when he catches Mickey staring at his jaw in the mirror and Mickey rolls his eyes as he spits into the sink. He’s a sucker. 

They climb into bed, Ian tucking himself in behind Mickey like usual, his firm chest pressed up against Mickey’s back. They don’t speak, both men worn out and tired, but they don’t need to speak, there’s no need to fill their empty space with mindless chatter. Not when they have all the years ahead of them to talk shit and waste time. Ian leans over Mickey to turn off the lamp on the bedside table, his bearded chin lingering slightly against Mickey’s forehead as he moves back to resume his position behind. He knows Ian did it on purpose and it sends a shiver down Mickey’s spine, his breath hitching and Ian pulls him in closer, breathing warm into his neck. 

He feels Ian’s warm lips press against the back of his neck, the bristles on his chin touching his skin as he kisses him gently. It’s a subtle and soft message of _goodnight, I love you_ and Mickey squeezes the hand at his waist, _goodnight, I love you_. He closes his eyes and breathes. 

He’ll probably wake up with a _bitch_ of a beard burn on his chin in the morning but he’s _definitely_ going to have to hide Ian’s razor before he gets any bad ideas. 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading the silly little thing i cobbled together in a couple hours, sorry if there's a couple of grammar mistakes but it's late here and i'm tired! 
> 
> comment and kudos if you enjoyed it, it's really what keeps me motivated. 
> 
> I hope you're all staying indoors and keeping safe! 
> 
> [follow me on twitter](https://twitter.com/buzzcutian) and [on tumblr](https://https://www.oforamuse.tumblr.com/) (come say hi!)
> 
> xoxo


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